


Of Madmen and Teddy Bears

by softiejace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Parent!lock, Parentlock, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, everyone is happy, i wrote this to distract myself from the pain, john is a good dad, john is very happy, sherlock and john raising rosie together is canon, soft johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiejace/pseuds/softiejace
Summary: Excerpt:“It suits her,” John says, patting the toddler’s back. Rosie gives him a satisfied look out of her deep blue eyes, sucking on her pacifier.Something unfolds in John’s heart like the petals of a flower.“Looks like we got ourselves a little teddy bear,” he murmurs.“Yes, well, I believe that was sort of the idea. Of the, um. Designer.” Sherlock clears his throat and John laughs, rising onto his toes to kiss him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is like one of the first actual johnlock fics i've written so feedback in terms of characterisation is very appreciated <3  
> hope you enjoy!

When the door falls shut behind him, the noise and brightness of Baker Street disappear. He’s stood blinking for a minute in the dimly lit hallway.

Then he hears the music. Tender, lighthearted notes.

Smiling to himself, John Watson makes his way up the stairs of 221b, up to the flat he shares with his boyfriend and daughter.

He takes extra care with the door handle, not wanting to disrupt the play, but of course no one can creep up on Sherlock Holmes.

He turns around as John sneaks into the sitting room, his features instantly lighting up with a smile. “Hello there.”

“Hi,” John says, smiling back. “Please don’t stop on my behalf.”

He shrugs off his leather jacket and throws it haphazardly over the back of his chair.

But as he’s toeing his shoes off, Sherlock has already carefully stored the violin away in its case.

He walks over to him then, and John, left foot still fighting to escape its shoe, tilts his face up to receive the kiss.

“Was almost through with that one, anyway,” he replies, reaching out to brush John’s hair back from his forehead so he can press his lips there, too. “Welcome home. How was therapy?”

John lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Hmm. Good.”

He leans into Sherlock’s touch, enjoying the feeling of fingers combing softly through his hair. “Quite good, actually. She said I’m making progress.”

“Mhm, happy to hear that. I’m very proud of you.”

Sherlock draws him closer, swaying them on the spot.

“Rosie?” John asks quietly after a moment.

“Been a little grouchy earlier so I took her to the park. Was playing to her just now…”

As John peaks over his shoulder, he catches a glimpse of the baby in her cradle.  
She’s wearing something John can’t remember buying - a fuzzy romper suit with a hood that has two round flaps like ears.

He chuckles. “Hmm. What’s this?”

Sherlock turns with him to follow his stare.

“This? Oh. Molly brought it. I, uh. Met her at the park.”

John smiles, glancing up at Sherlock who’s suspiciously avoiding his eye.

“Mhm, no, she didn’t,” he tests, and is rewarded with a slight pink flush on Sherlock’s cheekbones.

“Mrs Hudson had it left over from her kids?” he says, sounding like he’s making a suggestion rather than a statement.

John’s smile widens into a grin. “She doesn’t have kids, Sherlock.”

“Alright. Fine.”

The other man releases him from the hug, stepping further into the room.

“It was on sale,” he claims with his back to John, who follows him to the cradle.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says with a gentle quip.

Sherlock throws his arms up in surrender. “No, it wasn’t!”

He bends down to pick Rosie up, transferring her carefully onto his hip. As he turns back to face John, he actually looks a bit anxious.

“I thought it was cute, do you hate it?”

“Hate it? No - Sherlock, it’s adorable. I’m just teasing,” he hurries to say, reaching out to place one hand on Sherlock’s arm, the other on Rosie’s back. Sherlock relaxes visibly.

“It suits her,” John says, patting the toddler’s back. Rosie gives him a satisfied look out of her deep blue eyes, sucking on her pacifier.

Something unfolds in John’s heart like the petals of a flower.

“Looks like we got ourselves a little teddy bear,” he murmurs.

“Yes, well, I believe that was sort of the idea. Of the, um. Designer.” Sherlock clears his throat and John laughs, rising onto his toes to kiss him.

“Her face isn’t quite hairy enough, though.”

A spark appears in Sherlock’s eyes. “Yet. Reckon she can grow a mustache one day if she really tries?” he asks, feigning innocence.

John rolls his eyes. “We said we wouldn’t speak of this again.“

Sherlock’s grinning now. “You said that. i never agreed.”

He props Rosie up further, nuzzling her cheek. “I think she might suit it better than her father actually.”

John huffs. “Well, in any case she’s lucky she doesn’t come after you, or she’d only ever grow peach fuzz.”

He knows he’s won when Sherlock goes silent as a fish, gaping at John.

Giggling, he takes the opportunity to wrestle the child out of Sherlock’s arms.

“Hi, Rosie-bear!” he coos. “D'you like your new outfit, or did Papa force you into it?”

Sherlock gives an indignant snort. “Obviously, she loves it.”

John smiles, running a hand over the soft fabric. “Well, it seems comfortable enough.”

He glances up at Sherlock to test his level of annoyance, and finds nothing but fondness.

He blinks. Smiles. Jiggles Rosie a little.

“Dinner, love?”

They both look towards the kitchen on instinct where one of Sherlock’s recent experiments takes up most of the counter and at least half the table.

“Let’s order,” Sherlock says quickly.

“Agreed.”

They both think for a moment, then decide at the same time:

“Chinese.”

“Greek.”

John shakes his head. “We had food from that Greek place last week.”

“Well, we had Chinese on Tuesday,” Sherlock retorts.

“No, that was Vietnamese, Sherlock. - Don’t tell me you’ve deleted the country of Vietnam.”

The detective glares at him. “Of _course_ I haven’t deleted Vietnam. Don’t be ridiculous, John. It’s virtually the same though, all imported Asian cuisine has been mitigated to the liking of the European taste.”

John manages to frown at him for a total of four seconds before he gives in. “Fine. Greek it is.”

Sherlock’s dazzling smile could make up for eating Greek for a month, he thinks, as the other man dashes off to find his phone.

“Madman, isn’t he?” John remarks benignly.

Rosie gurgles unaffected.

John presses a kiss to her soft cheek and winks at her in conspiracy.

“But you know what? He’s _our_ madman. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

The earnest look Rosie gives him almost makes him think she agrees.


End file.
